


Cetagandan war and chocolate sprinkles.

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was meant to be a drabble. It got away from me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cetagandan war and chocolate sprinkles.

It’s because he’s an only child, Laisa reminded herself. Well, an only child for four unhappy and scary years, then all of a sudden he had Miles, and Ivan, and Elena, and the Koudelka girls. But they were all younger than he was; even with the entertainment (or terror) value of having Miles for a foster-brother he didn’t really have peers.

Maybe Kareen should have sent him to Cetaganda now and then to play with their Emperor? Imperial play-dates. What did Cetagandan Emperor-children do for fun? The mind boggled.

Or Komarr… Laisa imagined Gregor as a child, solemn-eyed and quiet. Imagined having him as a playmate in her own rather quiet childhood. But no – she met Gregor at the right time for both of them.

Quiet was noticeably lacking in the Imperial Gardens at the moment.

Right now the Residence gardens looked anything but Imperial. Crown Prince Xav was apparently leading an attack on a Cetagandan position, enthusiastically supported by the Vorkosigan twins, as well as Pierre Vorbrettan and Milla Galeni. Padma Vorpatril, ably assisted by Lizzie and Taura Vorkosigan and Juanita and Carlos Bourgos, were vigorously defending their position while an array of armsman watched from a safe distance and twitched occasionally. Stephan Vorrutyer was helping Pietr and Coralie Vorbarra herd a covey of Imperial ducks: the birds appeared to be winning.

Harried nursemaids were scattered through the gardens, hovering over the toddlers and babies.

Laisa added it up in her head: Four Vorbarras, six Vorkosigans (Miles always had to go just that much further than anyone else), three Vorpatrils (Ivan had started a little later, but was making up for it fast), two Galenis, two Bourgoses (and Martya’s third child was due soon), three Vorrutyers, four Vorbrettans… and, at a safe distance, Nikki Vorsoisson and the three younger Vorvolks, all ignoring the junior contingent.

The children were gloriously muddy, grubby and dishevelled. Their assorted attendants were under strict Imperial orders not to interfere unless life and limb were in immediate danger.

Their loving parents had dropped the children off at the Residence for the day, a marvellous long day of games, food, imagination – and the closest thing to normal childhood fun that the Imperial children could ever have. Once a month they all gathered at the Residence for this – in bad weather they explored the attics, or cellars – The Day Helen Vorkosigan Discovered A Forgotten Escape Tunnel was relived in many Impsec nightmares. Fortunately the charge packs for the weapons cached there were almost empty.

Of course, the normal business of the Residence went on, there were meetings and conferences just as usual. But somehow Gregor seemed to find time to watch the wonderful chaos.

A hand touched Laisa’s shoulder, then an arm slid around her, pulling her close. She snuggled against her husband and smiled.

“The gardeners complain bitterly about this.” Gregor didn’t sound too concerned. He smiled at the carnage, “It’s amazing what a couple of dozen children can do in one afternoon.”

“Do you think it’s too much?”

“I think it’s barely enough. Let them have this time while they can.”

She nodded. Gregor was determined that his children would have time to just enjoy childhood - the Imperium would claim them soon enough. Besides, herding ducks was good practice for dealing with the Counts.

Gregor held his wife as he watched his children and their friends playing all the games children had played since time immemorial. Shouting, laughing, falling over and scraping their knees – and no harried armsmen running after them stopping any damage to their Imperial skin. Gregor was proud of every bruise and scrape, all the mud and torn clothes. This was his gift to his children, this child-tribe of friendship and happy memories.

In the gardens the Cetagandan war declared a truce as servants arrived with jugs of fruit juice and plates of small cakes. There were happy squabbles over whose turn it was to get the ones with chocolate sprinkles.

Gregor smiled.


End file.
